


Small Talk

by paperdream



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Gen, The Magnus Archives Season 3, Trauma, Whump, angsting about being a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdream/pseuds/paperdream
Summary: Jon is determined to be more friendly toward the other people in the Archives.This goes about as well as anything Jon does.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Febuwhump Day 14 prompt "I didn't mean it."
> 
> Set between Basira signing on to the Archives and Jon's Circus kidnapping.

Jon had been trying to lighten the atmosphere around the Archives. There was little he could do about their supernatural job security, the oncoming apocalypse they were somehow responsible for stopping, or their evil boss, but he could at least rein in his own snappishness. Set aside the past and try to start fresh, let go of old grudges and biases. Jon had done things he regretted, and if they wouldn’t accept his apologies (he’d tried, he’d _tried_ , but even Martin seemed mostly deaf to them)… well, he would forget any past wrongs against himself the way he wished his own misdeeds could be forgotten.

In this spirit, when Daisy rumbled into the kitchenette where Jon was rinsing out a mug, he carefully didn’t flinch. They hadn’t been… allied, then, the way they were now, and she’d still thought he’d killed Gertrude and Leitner. He wasn’t going to hold things she did when the circumstances were different against her. He was going to move forward on friendlier terms. So- small talk. He could do that. “Hello, Daisy.”

He could feel her eyes on his back (hated having his back to her), weighing his words (his worth whether it was worth it, letting him live). He didn’t hold his breath for her response, lungs expanding in a deliberately even rhythm. “Sims.”

“What’ve you been up to?” They hadn’t seen her around the Archives for a few weeks; Basira hadn’t seemed worried, so he’d assumed everything was fine, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in whatever she’d been doing. Even if it was just whatever errands Elias had decided he wanted her for, any scrap of information could help them stop the Unknowing.

“Bouchard had me running up and down the country, hunting down more mannequins. I never want to see one of the damn things again. They’re even miserable once they’re dead. Burning’s the best way to get rid of them- but the _smell_.” 

Jon hummed sympathetically, setting his mug by the side of the sink to dry. 

He couldn’t help jumping when he turned to find Daisy standing much closer than he’d expected, scowling. 

She spoke before he could. “That was none of your business, you little  _freak_ .” 

His mouth  gasped open as he tried to contextualize her response. He hadn’t-  oh. Oh no. H e’d Asked her. 

His heart clenched at the realization. He couldn’t even make small talk without the Eye insinuating itself. 

“I-I’m sorry, Daisy.” He tried to inject as much earnestness and as little fear as possible into the words, even as her expression made his stomach flip. “I didn’t mean it.”

In a blink, she was on him. Jon found himself half-bent backward over the little  kitchenette  table, clawing at Daisy’s hand at his throat. Her teeth were bared, now, a n angry grimace . “Oh, you didn’t  _mean_ it? That makes it all right,  then, why shouldn’t you be entitled to everyone’s secrets, so long as it’s an  _accident?”_

Her grip on his neck tightened gradually, as he tried to choke out words. Maybe one of the others would hear- if they did, would they help him? “I’m sorry- please!”

Daisy bent him back further, until his body could break in two or pull his feet up off the floor. He teetered there for a moment, before she slammed him fully onto his back. His head banged against the tabletop, setting his vision spinning and blacking out her next words.

When the world crept back a bit, kept fuzzy around the edges by the unrelenting hand on his throat, Daisy was speaking. “-such trouble controlling it, maybe I should finish what I started?”

His neck- there was something else-

The  ~~ tree ~~ table dug into his back, uncleared detritus from previous users not cleared, and the  ~~ wind ~~ dry air of the Archives seemed to cut his throat  from inside  whenever he managed to take a tiny sip in.  The Hunter’s mask of fury and the knife (knife, KNIFE!) at his throat blurred together, day and night, forest and workplace, she was going to  _kill_ him! His face was cold where tears had trickled down- when had he  started crying?

His killer’s face twisted again, disgust bleeding in as she glared at him like he was the lowest creature on Earth.  Maybe he was.  “Reckon Bouchard wouldn’t like that, though.” 

The blade and constriction at his throat vanished, but before he could really register their absence, they were replaced by a hand gripped tight in his hair. He couldn’t hold back a whine as he was lifted by it,  roots aching,  and Daisy sneered. “Pathetic.”

Before he could respond, the world exploded. By the time Jon realized what had happened, dropped on the floor in a dizzy heap, Daisy was gone, leaving a parting shot to echo in his ears. “You won’t get a third chance, Sims.”

His head ached where she had bashed it into the table and then the wall. He tried to even out his breathing, but between the enforced emptiness of his lungs and the memories still creeping up on him, he couldn’t do anything but gasp desperately, hands grasped over his own windpipe as though they could do anything to protect him, i f Daisy came back.

She’d tell the others what happened. What he’d done. That he was out of control- a monster. His jaw ached with held back sobs.

It was an accident.

Things like him couldn’t afford accidents.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @inklingofadream


End file.
